


Hibernation

by Nyanshadowforce



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft Story Mode
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Chubby Ivor AU, M/M, Minecraft: Story Mode, Slow Burn, This is the worst mistake ive ever made, This silly au doesnt need a chaptered fic but here we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyanshadowforce/pseuds/Nyanshadowforce
Summary: (DISCONTINUED. Unsure of revival in the future)Petra decides to visit Ivor in his lava house after the New Order's return to their home world. When viewing his behavior, though, Petra becomes worried. It turns out that there's a bit more to Ivor than what she knows.





	1. Breaking and Entering

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in the Chubby!Ivor au, an au that me and another few friends brewed up on tumblr. It's silly, but I saw that there are oppritunities that come with it. It's a malleable topic is what I'm saying. This au also includes Soren, being a situation where he was found shortly after fleeing from the witherstorm.

Petra let her bag drop onto the coffee table, the parcel making a loud and alerting thump when slamming onto spruce. The books inside were what mostly contributed to the noise. Jesse and Lukas, who had been relaxing on the couch together, turned their attention to her.

Slamming something onto the table had certainly piqued their interest, but they asked no questions, only waited for answers. The two looked tired, but somewhat apprehensive. Understandable, given that dusk was quickly approaching, and that they had been exceedingly cozy huddled in each other’s arms and with flames flickering and dancing in the fire place.

“I’m gonna go stay with Ivor for a while.”

Petra’s voice was droned by her own slight fatigue. It was more mental than physical, really; Petra had been, over the past half hour of packing and stressing, pacing about her room and nibbling at the thought of backing out of the commitment while she hastily threw garments, books, and other objects that she considered necessary into her bag. It was all while the poor satchel’s stitches begged and pleaded for the packing to stop, strings and threads threatening to pull apart as another shirt or object was grabbed and stuffed in. She’d hoped she’d packed enough not to have to leave the lava house and grab something in the temple, despite the short distance away.

Petra’s words were not what the other two had been expecting. They weren’t baffled at the idea, no, but certainly caught off guard. Jesse and Lukas readjusted their positions on the couch, fumbling the blanket from over them and producing the ruffling sound of fabric over fabric. Lukas was the first to say something, stuttering.

“W-woah woah woah, hold on, you’re doing what? Why?” His voice rose as he spoke. “Petra, Ivor isn’t exactly taking visitors right now. Not that I know of.”

“Yeah, not that you know of. You guys don’t know because you haven’t asked.” Petra’s voice was dull, but there was a mild sting to her words. She wandered over to the window, boots clicking on groaning oak. “He’s been cooped up with Soren for a few weeks now. We got back in fall, and the first snow was two days ago. We all know what he’s doing.”

“Mhmm-Hmm.” Jesse hummed. The noise was soft, and happy, with a sort of fascination in her tone. “The effects didn’t hit him very long after we got back, you know, and I’m glad. He was starting to look like he did after the witherstorm.”

“We all were. But at least we’re getting better again, Ivor included. And you know, Jesse, I think you’ve still got some sizing up to do!” Lukas gave a playful nudge at Jesse’s stomach, and the two were both left laughing when Jesse had resorted to tickling Lukas as a revenge tactic.

"He-he-hey! Quit that, you little creeper!“ Lukas pushed her down onto the couch, with enough force not to harm her but at least get her out of the way. They were still laughing.

“You guys are adorable.” Petra smiled and shook her head, reverting her gaze to the window pane and to the outside world. Their town had since settled down in the dusk, all market stalls closing, and the only activity being the flickering of porch lamps or the occasional blotchy figure, shuffling through the night in a hurry to get home and away from the dark. Although the town was well protected from monsters, there was still a stigma against the night, and people preffered to get away even when the sky had only just turned it’s deep navy blue. A ways down the street, she could see the glow from Ivor’s house. Petra leaned down, cocking her head up in an attempt to view the sky. There were no stars; it was cloudy.

Lukas returned his own attention to Petra once his play-fighting with Jesse had ceased, The ocelot himself likely reigning victor. Lukas had trouble shaking off his smile. “Ah, okay, so Ivor is ‘hibernating’ or whatever you’d call it, but what’s your point? You still haven’t told us why you’re going.”

There was a pause, the only interruption of the atmosphere being a crackle and pop from a charred log, crying out from the blaze devouring it. Petra stood up straight, and crossed her arms. “We haven’t seen him in two weeks, Lukas. Guys, I’m not going to lie to you: I’m getting worried.” Petra shifted uneasily. “And, to be honest…I think I miss him. Yeah, he and I aren’t the tightest friends, but it’s still bugging me.” Petra had since averted her gaze away from Jesse and Lukas, although regretting the action. Why was it so shameful to care?

“Awwww, you DO care about him!” Jesse stood up, in an anticlimactic celebration, and cooed.

Petra shook her head again, and smiled. “Shut up, you little shit. I think you’re the one that forced me to care for that crazy old man in the first place.”

“Hey, you’re the one that used him as a pillow.”

“I said shut up!” Petra hollered, but there was no real anger in it as she pushed Jesse back down to her perch on the sofa. She was laughing; they all were. Petra, half to brush off embarassment, but there was still genuine laughter with it.

What had happened those months ago was considered to be an accident, by the warrior at least. Petra had been talking with Ivor in his room one evening, but things began to get hazy. Next thing she knew, it was morning, and her head was propped up on nothing other than the alchemist’s stomach. Ivor had sworn that she’d done it herself in a sleepy haze, but she wasn’t ever sure if she’d believe him.

“So if you’re just checking up on him, why are you staying over there?” Lukas asked. 

Petra tapped her foot in an impatience. “Well…we haven’t gone out in a while. I’m just looking for something to mix things up.”

It was true. The order had been on an official break after their impromptu adventure, and although they were allowing for wounds to heal, mental and physical, Petra was itching to get out. She’d gone hunting so much already, and books could only satisfy her for so long. If she couldn’t have a true adventure, she’d make one of her own. Staying a few nights in the house of a hibernating, cranky alchemist and his lion-maned screwball of a boyfriend would suffice.

“Oh.” Lukas sounded surprised. “So…that’s it? No ‘He owes me a diamond’?”

Petra sighed and looked down. She’d let that one go long ago. “He saved Jesse’s life a lot while we were- out there. I think the debt has been repaid.” There was a moment of silence. None of them in particular liked to remember what had happened.

Lukas inhaled, and patted his thighs with both hands as he stood. “Welp! Can’t argue that. Have fun out there. Well, if he lets you in.”

“You’ll know if he doesn’t. Leave the back door unlocked, just in case.” Petra grabbed her overfilled parcel from the table, slinging it over her shoulder with ease despite the bulk and weight. She felt the corner of a book nudge into her side as the bag settled, and began to regret her reluctancy to organize, as the poke would be a bother for the entire journey, however small. 

“Night, guys. Tell Axel and Olivia I said bye. They were already asleep.” 

“Will do!” 

Jesse and Lukas had already started making their way up the stairs to their room, and Petra gave one last gesture of a wave before making way to the front doors, not far from the main room. The first snow wasn’t long ago, and it was bound to be cold, especially in the night. The mornings were no better, with Petra still wearing her 'summer’ pajamas despite the turning weather and waking up freezing in her own bed. She grabbed a yellow scarf from the nearby coat rack. It wasn’t exactly in her favorite color, but the fabric was thick, and it would keep her warm. 

Petra opened the doors, a cold blast of late autumn air hitting her head on and chilling her. When she stepped out, tiny white flakes were falling, some already beginning to cluster on the cold hard ground and crunching under her boots like tiny glass cities. It was the second snow. She narrowed her eyes to the brightest light on the walkway; Ivor’s lava house. 

Petra inhaled, sighed, and stepped into the dark chill, her breath appearing as white mist under the bright porch light.

It was time for an adventure. 

Petra quickened her pace down the path, the lava house only two more house lengths ahead. The click of her boots on stone echoed through the alleyways and bounced from walls. It was the only noise to be heard in the night, aside from the muffled sounds of boisterous laughter and activity In family homes. Petra would see a silhouette at a window or two on occasion, and would quicken her pace even more, hoping that they, whoever they may have been, weren’t staring at her.

Did she really have anything to be so scared of? 

Petra had never been a fan of the dark, not since the witherstorm. Watching some porch lights flicker off here and there wasn’t the most comforting, either, and she’d jumped when one right next to her had suddenly gone dark. She knew why she was scared, and she hated to admit why.

Their city, in the night, had reminded her of one of the most eerie places she’d ever been in- a place that a stone and gold portal had led her and the others into. A place of utter silence, with spires reaching to scratch the ever-gray skies that had never once shed true sunlight during their visit, where not one animal was heard or seen anywhere, where Jesse had been relentlessly attacked with a harming potion and nearly held captive in a hospital until her own escape- The memory chilled her to the bone as much as the cold night air did. Petra pushed the thought away, and desperately tried to think of some other subject. 

She didn’t need to. The warrior had made it to her destination. 

An arc of glowing magma poured down through a thick glass cannister and into a base where it swirled a pooled. She could feel the warmth it radiated from where she stood, several feet away. It was too good to resist; she leaned in closer, absorbing the heat. 

“…Long live the lava house…” she sighed, almost wistfully, subconsciously using the statement - said before by a triumphant potionslinger - as a thanks. There was also a twinge of regret in her for once demanding said potionslinger’s creation get torn down. Perhaps she just hadn’t been thinking about the future. 

Petra did, however, still retain most of her previous feelings about the homestead. The only light coming from it was from the molten stone, which illuminated the spires of lapis and rough crag, and the knarled twists of the support beams, in an…unsettling way. Petra could see in the large windows, but from her angle, all that was to be seen was the light illuminating a patch of ceiling inside. The brick looked much smoother inside the house itself.

Petra shook her head. She hadn’t come here to sightsee. The light that the lava offered made the main entrance to the home visible. It was two doors, evened out at the tower’s wide base, made of the darkest wood she’d ever seen, each with a large ring knocker at its center. She approached carefully, the warmth of the magma fading as she was now in vicinity of the entrance. As she pounded the knocker down, the warrior breathed and prepared herself for what she may have been about to see. 

Ivor tended to pack on pounds quickly when the cold months hit. With them returning home mid fall, coupled with his pure exhaustion from their journey and Soren likely spoiling him at their return, there was no telling what the alchemist had done to himself. 

There was a long pause, she brought the knocker down two more times.

Another pause, and still nothing.

“…Fuck.” Petra sighed. Dammit, she should have been expecting this. She’d known Ivor’s sleeping habits were all over the place in winter, and she damn well should have known that he would have been asleep by now, In the young of night, and while the amount he slept had likely increased even more based on how he’d been acting in the few days after their return. 

He’d been the worst out of all of them. 

Pure lethargy. Petra had never seen Ivor so exhausted and unaware, nearly needing a shoulder to lean on wherever he walked, his eyes appearing dark and dull, barely focusing on anything. His personality itself was no better. The lack of voice-raising and snapping had been a red flag to everyone, and the only scrap of the ivor they were used to that was left was his complaining- Which had since lost all energy. His grumbles were quiet, and almost feeble. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see Gabriel and Ellegaard. He wanted to speak with Soren. He wanted to rest.

It was almost scary to see their Ivor like that, and Petra, deep down, hoped that he’d gotten everything he’d wanted and more. She had been worried, and the feeling hadn’t changed much since then. As she said before, it was part of the reason the visit was happening in the first place.

A few minutes passed, and no noise was heard from the house, aside from the bubbling of lava. The door wasn’t going to be answered, all those behind it bound to be sleeping like stones. Testing her luck, Petra jiggled one of the handles. No luck; locked.

She turned, scanning the path from which she had come. It was late, and the lucent glow of porch lamps had now since vanished, leaving the walkway almost as black as the clouded night sky had been. Much to her luck, snow was still floating down in tiny flakes. She had no spare torches, and wouldn’t be able to see a thing if she tried to return home. Coupled with the slick ice forming on pavement, and the thorny brambles that needed to be pushed through to get to the temple’s back door… 

Petra glared up to one of the plate glass windows of the tower, one of two that served as eyes to glare over the town, and weighed her options. Wait in the dark, or force her way through it, with chill digging it’s claws deeper into her every moment? 

An idea suddenly hit her, just as soon as an icy gust did, with weak but stinging sparkles spraying her face. She was Petra the warrior, dammit, and she’d come here for an adventure- it was an adventure she was going to have. Petra looked around, looking for anything that could be of use in her plan.

The extra support beams of the tower were designed sloppily at best, blackened and knarled material twisting upward and digging into the stone of the tower with rough, curling claws. As Petra peered closer, the material appeared a sort of dark mahogany. Perhaps Ivor had been too lazy to actually build extra supports, and had chosen instead to enchant a plant to do it for him, but she couldn’t be sure, the material not identifiable. 

It reminded Petra of moments gone. 

When she and Jesse were younger, there was a patch of roofed forest in their woods, larger oaks stretching high and producing a canopy that light only dared to challenge, the darkness supported by thick, dark, and tough trunks that it seemed not even the most powerful axe could cut through. It was extraordinary to the both of them, and when rumors spread of monsters lurking in the woods, it had only made Petra indulge further. Jesse’s reluctance about getting near monsters only fueled her fire. One day, after hours of delving deep into their dark forest, Petra had found what she decided was her favorite tree. 

The oak’s trunk, for some reason (perhaps an alignment of destiny), had grown crooked and twisted, the branch arcing oddly close to the ground before veering up to join it’s brothers in the mighty canopy, many low branches stretching out from it’s neck. Her first instinct was to climb it. And so she did, with Jesse calling many warnings below her. The warnings had been drowned out when Petra’s face, smudged with dirt, emerged from the canopy and into the world above. She had never seen anything like it; the girl could see for miles, catching the distant glimpses of jungles and mountains, feeling the wind in her tangled, russet hair and taking in just as much warm golden light as the rest of the royal oaks had been. 

And so, Petra followed her instincts once more, and began to climb. 

Petra, since that moment from so many years ago, had never been a stranger to climbing trees. The problem was that this may not have been a tree- hell, only notch knew what it could have been. But still, it’s texture and shape were familiar enough, and the warrior would make do with what she was given.

Soon enough, as the column twisted sharply upward, Petra found herself to be in an awkward and tight position. Her legs scraped over and tied to the dark twists with her hands digging into a grip where the stone-like substance jut out into potential supports for the journey upward. Just a couple more pulls, and she’d be at a spot where she could rest for a moment…another gust swept through the air, and she swallowed when glancing down.

Petra was never one to be afraid of heights, but in her current situation, the main issue was falling. The soft grass that tended to coat the area had started to wither away like most other plants in the season, and the ground itself was hard and compact for the same reasons. If there was a slip-up now, consequences would not be friendly. She tried not to think about it. In her haste to further her mind from the topic and to reach her goal, she scrambled up to the stopping point, where the support curved into a slight 'U’ shape. 

Petra settled in the resting spot, and sighed a breath of relief, lugging the bag into her lap. The window was only an arm’s length away, and her success was imminent. She would reward herself for a short time before continuing the little quest.

Her legs dangled, swaying slightly at her own will, as she sat on the beam and looked into the world. There wasn’t much to be seen, aside from an outline of city roofs that blended with the sky and the wil-o-wisps of torches that swayed as guards carried them, making their rounds patrolling the walls. There was such a pattern to their sway that Petra questioned if she wasn’t actually seeing tiny, bright spirits playing a graceful game of tag as they crossed paths.

Petra gave a shaky sigh. With her breath visible in front of her, she decided the sightseeing was over, and moved toward the window, readjusting herself and examining it. There were no hatches or handles on the outside, and the one visible inside would serve no use to her. She tapped a finger on the glass to test, and the sound provided the evidence she needed; the glass wasn’t thick.

Petra had planned for there to be a hatch or something of the sort to work with, but apparently, nothing could go nicely tonight. Of course…there was always plan B.

Petra glanced at her balled fist. No, it wasn’t worth bleeding over, not of there was a better option. Then she glanced at the rest of the structure- still no, with an unexpected lack of loose bricks sticking out. When she bent over, however, the sharp corner of something in the bag had dug into her inner thigh. Her books, which Petra was still debating if they were for herself or offerings to ivor… They were old, and she hasn’t touched them in years, but she had still enjoyed them. 

Now, they were going to be helping the warrior reach her goal. 

Petra weaved through her bag, only stopping when her palm grasped the edge of the largest book, and pulled it out carefully to assure nothing extra would fall out. She glanced at the cover. The Tale of The Raven, it read- an old childhood favorite of hers, her particular interests being horror and romance. The story covered both topics well. As she reeled her arm back, book in hand, there was a quiet apology. 

The corner of the tome was jammed as hard as possible into cold, bitter glass frame. The glass did not shatter, but did crack, forming a spider web and intention into the window. Petra regained her composure, then swung again, and the glass gave, shattering loudly with shards falling onto the windowsill and being flung inside. The entire pane didn’t shatter, but a space plenty big enough for her arm was opened up, with the rusted white latch now completely accessible. 

Petra stopped herself, however. Pulling her hand back from almost scratching it on a hanging tooth of glass. She had just broken the window- /Ivor’s/ window, and the possible repercussions of her own actions began to gather. She’d get in, but would ivor let her stay at this point? Would it be worth it? Notch forbid, there was no doubt he wasn’t going to lash out at her for it; opening a pocket to the cold in his home of precious warmth? Not good. He wasn’t going to be happy, and neither would Soren. 

Petra looked down, considering bringing her stunt to an end and letting the resident lovebirds assume the broken window was an act of vandalism, but the distant barking of dogs and a gust of northern wind changed the warrior’s mind once more. 

She flipped up the hatch with minimal effort, letting her thoughts scatter like scared mice as she raised the window slightly from the inside, soon pulling it up completely from the bottom. The space was a decent width, enough room to smoothly crawl through. There was still a twinge of regret in her mind, but it drifted away with the chill.

Petra kicked the bag in first, leather tumbling on stone brick and crinkling glass as it came to a stop. The novel was slid in after it, and then Petra herself wriggled through the space, scarcely avoiding cutting her palm on stray shard. Petra dusted off her pants as she stood, and looked around. Even in the dark, she was able to distinguish that the room was adequate in size, but surprisingly small for a living area. There were only faint outlines of everything in the dim light of redstone torches perched on the front wall, the torches themselves hovering over three empty brewing stands. Petra closed the broken window behind her, and with quaint effort, shoved a spare shirt in the open space in a poor attempt to prevent the chill from disturbing Ivor’s home. The inside was still surprisingly cool, but preferable over the temperatures she’d been facing only moments before.

Petra knew that the stands themselves were typically a necessity, but seeing them empty was the odd part. Most winters, while Ivor stayed inside, he would often work on brewing to pass the time while also being productive. If these were empty… No, maybe there were just others being used that happened to be out of sight, but the redhead could never be sure. How Ivor’d been acting when he hid himself away, it was possible that he had turned his attention to…more “pressing” matters. Petra wouldn’t know until she saw, though, and decided to keep thoughts over it to a minimum. 

One of the Redstone torches was plucked from its place on the wall, leaving a small hole in its wake where a bright wire of redstone could be seen curving into an unknown path in the wall. Petra swayed the torch in the air, using its weak light in search of a resting spot. It was already late, and not only had the climb exhausted her, but the night had chilled her more than expected, and there was little more that Petra wanted then to curl up and sleep. More recent issues could be addressed in the morning.

Her glowing red guide ran over something that seemed to be furnishing, but was difficult to distinguish with its dark shade of leather. But as she strided, leaning down and running her hand across the length of it, the furnishing was determined to be a couch. 

"Thank Notch…“ Petra mumbled, slinking her belongings from her arm and onto the floor. The warrior quickly collapsed, and the old cushion below her dipping more than Petra was comfortable with, weak springs moaning as it did. Petra raised her head, looking forward at the broken window that was clear In view. Luminescent lava gave the last strong light to be seen in the city until morning, and it gazed at her with a weak but nurturing light. Petra never would have thought she would have been so thankful to be in the molten and deadly liquid’s company. 

She’d made it to the lava house. Turning the page to the next chapter of her adventure, Petra closed her eyes, and let sleep take her into its inky void, where dreams and disasters awaited.


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the quiet of Ivor's home, Petra has an unexpected reunion with a certain someone. And another certain someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who forgot to post this chapter to ao3? 
> 
> But, regardless, I'm not sure if this fic is going to be completed. Doesn't mean I can't post any of it, though. If you find any grammatical errors, please tell me about them!

As the stain refused to give, the rag in Petra's hands was pressed harder to the plate, frustration fueling strength to rid the glass surface of its blemish. Her knuckles had been tensed to white in her effort. The scattered scrapes on her palms stung as the soap soaked into them, but were soothed as warm water washed it away. Her hands finally loosened as the chunk of dried food slipped from the dish after far too much effort remaining relaxed as the remainder of dishes had only consisted of loose crumbs and empty cups. Things that the water could take on its own. 

Of the wrath and various punishments that Petra had expected to suffer, this was not one of them. Ivor seemed to be the person to have her thrown from a tower, poisoned, or left in the snow outside to freeze, or perhaps even to retrieve food for the glutton alchemist himself. The last expectation wasn't too far from what she had received in the end. Although, basic chores was still a surprise that offered mixed feelings. Better than injury, yet somewhat humiliating. 

Petra had awoken earlier that morning to Soren shaking her and spitting obscenities. The tone was partly fearful, mostly angry, and she didn't need to hear what he was saying to know what he meant. It was understandable; anyone finding someone In their house like that, friend or not, was sure to be spooked and enraged like a wild steed.

Apparently, she'd been found due to Ivor feeling a faint change in temperature all the way downstairs, through multiple doors and in his own more-than-cozy room. Petra had trouble believing it. Although, the "loft" as Soren had called it, looked more than abandoned. Even with a draft caused by her broken window, it wasn't all that likely for Soren to wander up and discover her on his own. 

Now that Soren had discovered her crime, though, he was craved for justice. Petra assumed that Ivor was too. After being sent to wait in a musty storage room, Soren had returned no less angry than before to assign her simple chores. She had no clue if any transaction had taken place or if he had simply left to pace off steam. Still, not a word from Ivor himself. Either Soren was acting as a messenger between them, or this was all a ploy from Soren while Ivor was busy doing Notch knew what. Even if that hadn't been the case and Soren truly was playing messenger, it made Petra think to why Ivor wouldn't see her himself. It didn't settle quite right. 

Still, Soren had assigned her these chores as a "repayment" of her act of vandalism. She broke one thing, she'll fix others- a simple premise. Part of her wanted to groan and complain, yet given what she'd done, the warrior chose to turn to bitter acceptance

The stagnancy of Ivor's home was not to be ignored. If not for the little noises, like running water and that of muffled footsteps and crackles, the home would be silent. There were few things so eerie and unmoving that Petra had trusted, but she told herself that this was different. This was a friend's home. Yet, clouds of uncertainty still lingered in her mind. 

The lava house itself was much bigger underneath than it was above. What could be seen above ground was only what Soren had referred to as the "loft", apparently rarely used and rather cramped by Soren's and Petra's own standards. The actual home located underneath was accessed by a flight of stairs, also cramped and plenty.  
(Petra guessed that said stairs may have been part of the reason the loft was so vacant, as well as one of the reasons Ivor had refused to leave his home in recent time.) 

The downstairs and actual "homey" area of the house was much bigger and neater than Petra had expected. neat was the last thing she'd expected from Ivor, but living with a foil of an architect could contrast that expectancy. She wasn't complaining. It wasn't like Soren would have allowed it to be unkept if he was to live here as well. In fact, thinking that only the begrudging alchemist was living here was to think foolishly, as Soren's imprints showed through the whole of the den. 

The stonework was few, most of it consisting of intricate swirls and designs of quartz or cobblestone on the ceilings and walls of the hall, or the scorched and black-splattered bricks of the fire places. The rest of the home was woodwork. Dark oak and spruce covered most of the den, giving the inside a welcoming demeanor, somehow familiar and safe even though Petra had never once previously set foot inside. Lighter wood was uncommon, mostly used for the various bookshelves that lain scattered in various rooms and some halls. Ivor would let Soren design the inside, but there was no way in hell he'd let him mess with the books. 

The last glass from the sink, now clear and restored, was slipped onto the drying rack as Petra walked from the counter. A damp towel was used to dry her hands sloppily before it was tossed near the drying rack, left lying sodden and lifeless. The rough cloth had left her scratches irritated once more. 

Part of her wanted to be mad. A dull anger rested somewhere in her chest, wanting to thrash and hiss, yet it was also exasperated like a suffocated flame. Nothing more than a puff of smoke that clogged her lungs and made her eyes feel watery. She felt no tears nor an urge to cry, but there was still a defeated sense about her. Petra tried to disssmiss it as exhaustion of a day's work, but that didn't change the feeling in her chest.

It wasn't humiliation, was it? No, that wasn't it… there was such little purpose in keeping the feeling, yet it chose to stick with her regardless. 

Her next and last task of the day was to organize the bookshelf closest to the fire place into alphabetical order. It was something that Soren hadn't gotten to on his own, and the disorganization of it wasn't to his liking. A puny job compared to most others she'd normally receive- in fact, all of today's tasks had been, but busy work was something she could appreciate. Being put to work at the very moment of her arrival did feel almost unfair, but admittedly, it was much better to have something to do rather than nothing. To her, It didn't always have to be big jobs; doing something little and making contributions of some sort to some job was better than doing nothing. 

Breaks were taken of course, but she wasn't often one for longer breaks or lazy days. Well, not unless she'd been to hell and back over and over and over for a few months. But at their return, she didn't want her mind to wander. Curious minds tended to wander right back from the places that had been scarred. Leads were mandatory.

To put it simply, there were things she didn't want to remember. Little occupations made a good leash. A visit to a friend made an even better one. Keeping from being insufficient was simply the icing on the cake. 

With that, there was no hesitation to start the next task. The last 'a' book on the shelf, "Drako and the Black Dragon", was piled on the carpet with the other dusted and weathered tomes. All titles Faded, Petra saw that they all shared a common fate and a common journey. Pages weathered, all passed from hand to hand, and here they ended out. Petra wondered which would be destroyed and which would be passed on again as she began to place 'b' books on their own respective spots on the carpet. 

The organizing continued for some time that Petra didn't keep track of. It was tranquility, laced in paper and guarded by the crackling and popping wall of flames that was the fire place. Near that wall, Petra found herself safe.

That was until, from the quiet came an alien noise. Something between a squeak and a growl if Petra's ears were not fooling her. The spine of the book in her hand was released as she turned and froze, the book standing an outlier halfway pulled from the shelf and further from its brothers. Petra's stare was cold and fearful, strands of tangled hair framing her face as she glanced around the room. 

The room appeared to be empty, yet the noise was too foreign and abrupt to be from the fire or a creak from worn wood. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the room continuously as she shakily stood. 

The inside of the lava house was underground. Not far enough for redstone and diamonds, but far enough to find heaps of iron and monsters if one was to run into a cave. There were a few cave entrances in the area, and the possibility that Soren and Ivor had had run into a tunnel when digging out the home was likely enough. Ivor could be known for carelessness when it came to blocking up entrances, and coupled with the dimly lit interior of the actual home…

It was all too possible for some sort of beast to crawl up from dark, cold reaches and ambush someone that was unlucky enough to be unprepared for an attack. Petra was unarmed, had no armor, and was practically a sitting duck in her environment just as much as she was unaware of the red gaze that laid on her. 

"Hello?" Petra slinked to the center of the room, the thickest book that happened to be near her snatched by her hand. If a book could break a window, it might as well have been used on different terms of blunt force. If there was going to be a fight, she'd make due with what she had. She always did. 

A moment passed, her tensed muscles beginning to grow tired. There were no traces of noise or a reply from the open room. 

Petra huffed, glancing down and tension fading. What was she even doing? 

It wasn't like she hadn't been paranoid about these things before. Dozens of nights resting stiffly in unknown places made one similar to an ocelot on terms of anxiety. Approaching footsteps was an enemy. Whispers were growls. The howl of wind was the howl of a deadly beast. There were too many nights when Petra had awoken to these phantoms, tangled in the webs of her own memories and struggling to escape. 

She shook her head, gazing down at the intricate designs of roses in the velveteen carpet. Things weren't like that anymore. She was a warrior. She wasn't supposed to have to comfort herself like a scared child worrying of monsters under their bed. The noise had been her own imagination or just a creak, and that was that. If something wanted to kill her, it would have tried by now.

The moment that Petra turned her back was the moment that her fears were rekindled like a flint and steel with a flame. 

A shrill shriek split the air, an eldritch abomination leaping down from the darker ceiling above and latching onto the warrior's shoulder. A scream, just as pitched, mangled it's way from her throat as she writhed and thrashed to shake the beast from her. The fabric of her sleeve nearly tore as the monster- a cave spider -was pried from her shoulder and thrown onto the carpet on its side. 

Petra jumped back, nearly falling onto her back before grabbing the corner of a shelf and regaining balance. She readjusted her footing, snatching a wooden ornament from the shelf and dropping the book she'd previously held as her offense. Clad in armor of wool and wood, her hands grasped firmly on the ornament as if it were a sword. 

Her enemy was less poised. Trapped on its back, it slowly flipped upright once more. With Its movements lethargic and pitiful as they were, it appeared to be sick. 

Petra gave a nasty glare, a faint panting coming from her nostrils as the breath of a bull would. She raised her makeshift weapon waiting for the next attack, but the threat was in vain as It never came. 

The beast of her ire only gazed at her after it had situated itself. The ruby orbs of its eyes gleamed in the firelight, harboring something familiar to Petra. Its legs were loose and subdued, the body of the spider wriggling slightly as it settled on the woolen carpet. White fangs were barely visible behind the foresting fluff of its face. The spider cocked its head, making a short hiss at Petra. 

Petra realized, this was no enemy. 

Her eyes lit up, a smile pulling up the corners of her lips as fast as lighting moved in the sky. Her weapon was dropped as she knelt down. How could she? How could she have thrown her? How could she have /forgotten/ her? 

"Little Rose! Come here, girlie! Sweet notch I'm sorry- come here, come here!" She cooed. The spider, Little Rose, flinched as Petra reached for her, only adding to slowly gathering guilt. But it wasn't a moment more before the cave spider launched herself at Petra with another smaller but shrill screech. As Little Rose dug her small claws into her chest, Petra stroked her fur, curling her arms around the creature and mumbling reassurances. 

Little Rose was someone that Petra had history with. Perhaps not as much as someone from an old mercenary contract or an old friend from the Endercon territory, but their relationship in itself had more solidity and spice than most others. At least any others that weren't within the new and old orders. 

How Petra had come to "get to know" a cave spider was both a simple and complicated tale. 

The bottom line had been simple: Petra hated spiders. Cave spiders, field spiders, tiny house spiders- /all/ spiders were top on her "to kill" list. Ivor, being the testy and over dramatic villain that he made himself out to be, decided to take advantage of her ire and fear. A domesticated cave spider had done the trick. 

He hadn't decided to adopt the thing only to scare Petra; according to him, it was a drop of his own compassion that prompted him to save the the abandoned spiderling's life. Still, Petra was frustrated. Not a puppy, not a kitten, not a parrot, but out of all the pets Ivor was in power to get his hands on, he'd chosen to get a creepy-crawly venomous beast. Given their rivalry, as well as Petra's own fear- no, /disliking/ -of arachnids, the circumstances were perfect for petty pranks involving Ivor's new toy, Little Rose. 

It first consisted of Ivor approaching with the spider at unsolicited times to make Petra jump and yelp, and to make her skin crawl as the creature moved down his arm. Soon after that, it turned into a cruel game with Petra being consistently cornered by the monster, the fuzzy fiend found dwelling in the warrior's room or even lain on top of her with no consent whatsoever no warning. The worst part was that there had been no way to fight back. Killing or injuring the little demon would leave Petra to face seven levels of hell in Ivor's wrath, and they both knew it. The least that the torture showed was that Ivor trusted her with something precious to him. 

Over time, jokes and pranks began to blend into a daily ritual becoming less effective by the hour. Through stale greetings and nods of acknowledgement, something had sparked between the beast and beast-slayer. Petra had been unwilling to admit it was a friendship at the time. Then it was simply a "mutual agreement". 

Little Rose never attacked anyone, not even if she was thrown or kicked. She was quiet when shushed, but playful, giving little growls and squeaks In response when spoken to. With such tendencies, the warrior found that Ivor's eight-legged toy happened to be someone to bounce ideas off of, and essentially, to vent to. The spider never minded. She never flinched if Petra had gotten too loud, but would respond with tiny squeaks that lightened the mood more than Petra would have expected. Her annual visitor was playful, sweet, fluffy, well groomed…

Even if a cave spider, she was a source of comfort. Soon enough she was one of the lights of Petra's day and something she looked forward to seeing when coming home. Petra had become one of Little Rose's favorite humans in turn. An honorary title previously shared only by Ivor. 

Through the ware and tear of their portal adventure, and through every monster and demon that seeked to tear them apart, Little Rose brought flashes of knashing fangs and gigantic webs. Even if only for a moment, guilt hung in her like a rope in gallows. But will Little Rose's warbles and friendly growls, the phantoms of Petra's nightmares scattered. The guilt remained. 

"Shhhhh, it's okay girl, it's okay…" Little Rose's screeches of excitement at their reunion had grounded to various whimpers and cries, all followed by little raspy breaths. If not graced with Little Rose's company, Petra wouldn't have ever known that spiders could make such noises. Each one of Rosie's breaths shook her small body, the trembling working to further break Petra's heart as she continued to stroke the arachnid's ebony fur. She'd forgotten how much she missed the feeling of silky spider fluff between her fingers 

"I know. I've been gone for a while, haven't I?" Petra sighed. The response she received was only a deeper warble than the constant stream of noise emanating from her friend. Petra continued to weve her fingers between the fur of Little Rose's legs. The fur here much less thick, similar to that of cat hair. "I'm sorry I've been gone. We just… got lost for a while. Really lost. But- but I'm back now, so it's okay." 

Another faint warble reverberated into Petra's gut as Little Rose nuzzled further into her friend. Petra assumed that any further responses would be no greater than that. 

"I really did miss you, you know that? I would never leave my little Rosie like that before telling you." Petra whispered. "We didn't mean to be gone for so long. We chased the- ah… some big mean cats into a portal, and… It gets complicated. I'll tell you more about it later. All you really need to know is we got lost and I'm sorry." 

She stopped herself from delving into any details. The lump forming in her throat served as enough of a reminder. Little Rose glanced up at her missed caretaker, ruby eyes unfaltering before resuming nuzzling into Petra's shirt. 

"I love you, Rosie." She said, voice low. Little Rose only continued her hum.

Petra didn't need a response. Little Rose had already made her opinion known. It was moments like these, with the firelight warm on her skin and a loved one in her arms, that Petra now found new purpose in. They were strange, scattered like fallen fruits from a flowering tree. It had been rare in the past, a feeling she wasn't used to, but that wasn't to say it was unwelcome. Unwelcome was the last thing it was. To have purpose in a family and having a family in itself was something the warrior had thought she'd long forgotten and abandoned, but it turned out that the lone wolf was a starving puppy. A family was something she never wanted to leave again, as reluctant as she was to admit it. A /family/. A group of people and creatures that she could trust her very life upon, them doing the same for her any given moment. 

Mercenary lives were different. The ground she held herself upon was never hers to protect nor serve, the ground beneath her moving like the winds of a storm each given day. Some territories had leniency and connections; saving graces such as Endercon territory where kinder contacts welcomed her, and where she'd established a potential base and supply depot. If the depot had a mosnter infestation, one that passed better with time rather than fighting, the ocelots were always ready to take her in. As was Jesse's group. Nights in the tree house or the different homes of each ocelot had felt alien as every other resting place felt, but still warm and welcoming in their own unique way. That was a lot to say compared to most other shelters. 

On the move, there were few friends to back her and no family to flee too. Shelters were shanty taverns or old abandoned huts left by adventurers long dead or advanced. Petra remembered a night in an abandoned home, where the rain outside dripped in through the wood and a resident silverfish did not attack her, but nestled close to her in an apt curiosity. Perhaps it was a loneliness, as silverfish lived in groups. Petra crushed it regardless. 

The word would change with the seasons depending on which cities were in need and where. When new mines were dug out, the work became harder with less pay, and in some places most caves had been strip mined. Lack of resources meant little work. Little work meant moving. Moving meant new dangers, people who she was wary to trust or accompany. Daggers didn't cost much, and If something went wrong by Petra's hand, one may have just been shoved between the columns of her spine. 

As much as her friends in Endercon territory had believed so, Petra was invulnerable by few means. They way she held herself certainly left an impression on them as it did her clients, but to say it was an act wouldn't be the complete truth. She could defend herself undoubtedly. Her name was stone, and she held herself the same, brandishing a blade that would not hesitate to strike serious threats. However, some things laid more twitches and fears in her than she preffered. Some enemies came in groups bigger than her bravery, prompting the lone wolf to run with her tail between her legs. It wasn't supposed to be shameful, but even as some enemies were too great to face alone, evasion felt like a disgrace. 

Back then, Petra was even less skilled, even more cowardly, and nowhere near as dependable as she had been with the New Order. Who was to say that couldn't have just up and dissappeared from the face of the overworld one day, disappearing like a stray spark on wet foliage? A spark that was to become a flame, smoke unseen, roar unheard, fading into a premature end without another light to give? 

Then, family was unmoving to her. A ball and chain to buisness. But through the bitter storm- The Order of the Stone, Little Rose, Jesse, even Ivor- they were the dry savannah grass that let the fire of her soul and purpose ignite, roaring and blazing on the horizon. They were something to fight for. Her own kin to live for and protect. They reminded her of her very purpose and loved her in turn. It was more than she could have ever asked for. 

In short, family life was good, even if departures for solo missions were made from time to time. 

[Page break] 

When Little Rose had calmed, Petra's hands returned to organizing books. She'd quietly scolded herself upon realizing some had shifted out of their order on the floor when she'd stumbled through them. 

Life seemed to repeat that day. A low shuffle and creak snapped Petra's attention from the books to the hall. It could be assumed that the noise was footsteps, but the unseen tread seemed to drag, more like that of a half limp bear than actual footsteps. It was too sloppy to be Soren. unless he had drank some sort of poison to make his steps falter like so, it couldn't have been. Fatigue was an uncommon thing in him.

The only other culprit was Ivor. Petra straightened herself, facing the hall as he entered. Given what she thought he knew and how she'd gotten into his home in the first place, there was little telling that Ivor would be anything near happy with her. Even if she apprehended their meeting, the warrior didn't dare look yet. 

The trudging came to a halt. A gaze dug into her back, but whether it was hot or cold was untold. 

"Petra." His voice was something between an exhausted sigh and a tone of greeting. She glanced back, her own gaze summoned by his voice. 

The first thing she noticed was his hair. Black locks were rustled like brambles, displaced and frizzled here and there, most of the chaos imitating from the back of his head while the hair was less tangled in the front in which it framed a dull expression. What had concerned most of Petra's attention were his eyes. Pools of void appeared to have changed from dark to light, ashen irises blending within the rest of a concrete expression. Even as it blended, there was something about the gaze itself that unsettled her. There was too much of a vacancy about it.

Even with Ivor's grim demeanor, Petra's lips quirked up in a sheepish smile. "Ivor." 

He returned the smile, nodding at her before returning his focus to the old recliner behind her. His movements stalled, the cushion sank with a creak as he sat and then jerked as the footrest was kicked up effortlessly. The steaming mug in his hand was placed on the table at his side, clunking on wood as it was. The clunk felt to be a statement of some sort, but Petra had trouble deciphering anything that day. 

Ivor's mere looks had unsettled her, but the rest of him blended into the room like a clump of sleet to a blanketed sky. Even as it was his home, it seemed odd to blend so suddenly. 

Ivor hummed slightly, adjusting himself In his seat. "I see you've found a friend." 

No comments on the window nor soren's assignment of housework. Not what Petra was expecting, but it was better than facing a cold wrath. "More like she found me. Did you hear her?" Petra asked. "I didn't even know that spiders could scream like that. I think Rosie shot out her little lungs." Petra chuckled, stroking the spider's fur. 

"You're lucky to learn now," Ivor's voice strained as he stretched. "She's been screaming for you for a week now. Good to have her quiet again." 

"Really now?" The stroking of fur came to a stop, Petra lifting the spider to her face. "Did you bother Ivor just for me? Did you?" She cooed. 

"Be wary. I don't believe she's going to be letting go of you for a few days." Ivor sighed. The tone of his voice warned of past experiences. 

"I think I can part with that," Petra cooed again, nuzzling the spider. "Because I missed you too! Yes I did!"

Petra was met with a squeal, Little Rose attaching herself to Petra's neck and nuzzling her in return. "Alright, calm down now. I think Ivor came here for some quiet. And I kinda did too." She lowered the spider again, stroking her fur as she was placed on the carpet. 

Of all times, Petra wasn't sure why Ivor had only appeared now after hiding in his room for hours before. Halted by Little Rose's warbling and clicks, Petra only spoke when the spider had quieted at last. "Aside from screaming spiders… How has your little vacation been?" 

It was a loaded question in itself. It would be a lie to say that any one of them had been doing exactly well since their return to their world. Ivor batted an eye before leaning back lazily and letting it slide shut once more. "That depends. How do you think I've been?" 

Petra opened her mouth to speak, but the words refused to come out. She closed it again a second later. It was a wonder, Petra had to admit. What had been happening in the lava house could be left up to an educated guess, but could also be stamped out by excess possibility. There was no doubt that Ivor had retreated from the temple to rest and recover among other things, but Petra knew there where nitty gritty details they'd all faced that were also to be considered. If Ivor wanted to talk about those so suddenly, she wasn't sure. Lightening the mood appeared to be the best option in the oncoming tension. Scars were best avoided for now. 

"I'm guessing you've been eating, sleeping, and brewing potions to your heart's content?" Her words were laced with the smile that dwindled in her voice and on the ends of her lips. 

Ivor appeared less amused, Petra receiving a brief glare, but there was no heat to it. Ivor stalled in response as his lips were occupied by his drink, his other hand moving to his waistline. "I suppose you could say that. Although, sleeping has managed to weigh out anything else for now. You're aware that I've just woken, aren't you?" 

"No." Petra glanced to the wall, searching for a clock. "What time is it anyway? It's kinda hard to tell down here." 

"Hell if I know…" Ivor huffed. "Speaking honestly, I've thrown my sleeping schedule out the window. It doesn't matter much down here. You sleep when you're tired, eat when you're hungry. There's not much to it" 

"Wow, that sounds healthy." Petra's tone was dry, her expression only slightly wide-eyed. This wasn't like him. 

Ivor huffed again, noise followed by the clunk of his mug returning to the side table. "Any other questions?" 

"Yeah…" Petra's voice trailed. "Nothing about the window? Soren made it seem like you guys were preparing for my beheading when he was dragging me around. I thought you'd be pretty pissed too." She shrugged, weaving through Little Rose's fur as the spider demanded attention in squeaks and clicks. 

"It would be inaccurate to say that you're a welcome guest, and you're little break in isn't much appreciated either." Ivor's voice lightened, prompting friendliness. "But I /was/ expecting someone. Maybe not you, but someone. It's good to know you haven't forgotten about me. So no, I'm not opposed to your company. Not to mention that it'd be nice to keep an extra hand around here." 

"So you're on with the plan of making me your slave too? That's a surprise." 

"Watch the sass." Ivor threatened "It was mostly Soren's idea. I was half asleep, so there wasn't much up for debate." 

"Ah." Petra turned away for a moment. "That explains it. You know, as long as I'm not reduced to a maid, I'm alright with being kept busy." 

"Dually noted. And so as long as you don't bother me with complaints, I'm alright with it too. It sounds like a good deal." Ivor grinned at her. 

Better than certain ones in the past, she hoped. 

A moment of clarity. Petra nodded in return along with a short hum, and without further response, turned her attention back to the work she'd been put to. Moments like this being so few was something she'd found over time. The best way to cherish them had been to flow with their current, and thus, she did exactly so. An unkept quiet dribbled back into the room accompanied by scent of tea and the occasional shift or huff. 

"Why /did/ you come here, Petra?" 

She didn't turn at the question nor did she flinch or stop to think over it. The question was something she'd been expecting the moment the faint shattering of glass echoed down the streets. Petra shrugged, the answer flowing from her with ease. "Same reason you'd go anywhere else- To get a little taste of adventure." 

"You all are never going to leave me alone about that word, are you? I've started something…" Ivor mumbled, leaning on one armrest and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You've found yourself a quaint little adventure." The chair straightened and footrest retreated as he moved to stand. "Welcome to my humble abode, then." 

"It's late, but I'll take it." Petra's grin grew. "And what, you're just going to leave me now?" 

"I'll not be far. Just going to the kitchen." Ivor picked up his now empty mug. "And you're coming too. You need something to eat, because they clearly haven't been feeding you enough in the temple." He offered his hand to her. 

"There's the Ivor I know." She grabbed his hand, pulling herself up with a grunt, Little Rose remaining attatched to her belt. "You know, Lukas was saying the same thing about Jesse. I think the rest of us need to come over for dinner." 

"I worry about one of you before I worry about the rest of you." Ivor let go of her hand late after leading her, already pulling a plate from the cabinet as Petra sat down on a kitchen chair. She couldn't seem to wipe the grin from her face. 

"Now, what would you like?"


End file.
